Today’s poem for Paul Brookes’ April poetry challenge. You can read all the responses here.
Tag: cleave poem
Hope in a dead garden
This cleave poem is for day 15 of Paul Brookes’ April poetry challenge. It was inspired by the artworks by Anjum Wasim Dar and John Phandal Law. You can see them and read the other poems here.
Dark time before the spring
Ellen Best has written a cleave poem on a subject close to my heart. You can read it here. She has prompted me to try to write another one.
The idea of a cleave is to write three poems in one. One half telling one story, the other telling its opposite, and the whole making the complete poem. The two halves ought to be separated physically on the page, but tell that to WP. You’ll have to pretend that the bolded part is on the other side of the page.
It’s something I haven’t done in a long time. Certainly not since the new editor makes formatting it impossible for anyone without a degree in computer technology.
Dark time before the spring
The dark time has come
though sun still pierces briefly autumn soft
and all the leaves are falling
the tree song is changing
no summer birds sing sweet from shady trees
flashing bright with fire-garb bright as laughter
the stream’s voice is loud
remembering spring torrents
where rain has swollen the cords and chords
and the rush of new life
of watervoice coursing to the sea
leaf-dance on meadows red now and wild
the wind has risen in the east, feather-ruffled, ragged-clawed
sweeping like swallows across the rain-damp green
and in the watchful hedge the wild things wait, sniffing
the tang of spring rising from deep roots
the dark night about to fall
gathering all in its eternal arms.
As I sit on this glorious autumn morning of warm sun, I can hear, all around me the sound of gunfire. I defy anyone who is not a completely insensitive brute to listen to the sound of senseless killing and not be angered and sickened by it. A cleave poem for OctPoWriMo’s silence prompt.
A cleave poem is three in one: left side says one thing, right side says its opposite. Read together they make a third poem.
Early morning gold / the shadows lie
thick beneath the trees/ cool and deep—
autumn settles / with a stealthy rustle,
when the only sound is birdsong/ hunters creep
beneath the wing-fluttered hedge/ deer startle into flight
I hold my breath/ as silence breaks with sharp retorts
and russet flashes, gone / shattered the fragile peace
where wild things go / snapped the thread of life
I watch the silence /as death falls on fallen grace
filling the space of beauty lost/ for some warped and dark delight.
The OctPoWriMo prompt is about things split in two, the parting of ways. Nothing more appropriate than a cleave poem. Dedicated to a special person.
I remember how we longed when you slammed doors
For the day to come the shouting at its peak
When you would decide it was time to change
To finally go, make your own life
And let us breathe. You took your courage
In both hands, you clutched your dreams
Fistfuls of anger let them open with broad wings
Such energy let fly carried on the wind
An avalanche of regrets into the great blue future
Would things have been fanned into wild flames
Better than this cold fury and blossomed
Had we shared our hearts with their passions unfolded
Doors and windows
A cleave poem for the OctPoWriMo prompt, openings
When a door closes a window opens
onto a dream wide as the world
night falls dark sky full of stars
hope trickles like grains of sand
through the gaps a multitude
between the certitudes of tomorrows
and settles fathoms deep where pearls shine
out of reach so much wealth
on a forgotten seabed lighting up the gloom.
It was in the grey of morning
The #OctPoWriMo prompt is about betrayal and the suggested form is a palindrome, in which it reads betrayal one way, forgiveness the other. I don’t think I’m capable of writing a palindrome, but here’s another cleave poem that reads sad/happy.
It was in the grey of morning, birds were singing in the trees
When you left, I heard you go, with the sound of breaking hearts
I closed my eyes against the light, sun was on the brink, rose
Leaching into the grey, with the promise of a soft day.
I should have seen it coming, I see so much ahead,
But the wishing and the wanting, for us, a lifetime not enough,
Veiled the fractures and the flaws. I reach out my hand to touch you,
Too late, your footsteps fading, your face turns to the light,
You will see a different dawn, with a familiar smile,
A future, ocean vast, bright as the glowing sky,
While I refuse the heaped regrets, thoughts circling back to me
To grasp the coming day and the completion of happiness.
Wanting to be happy
For the #OctPoWriMo challenge, on the theme of ‘what do you want’ a cleave poem, sort of contrapuntal poem.
Is the wanting to be happy
worth the waiting in the end
do I want it, like the bird needs to fly,
because it’s there, the sky calling.
Does the hand reach out in the wind
to pluck the only apple that balances, swaying,
on the tree where blackbirds sing
or does the eye for the simple joy of it,
treasure the laden branch, the juice and the joy of it
fluttering-leafed to join the song of the wind
with pure life in the autumn sky.
Sings the moon
I haven’t done a cleave poem for a long time and thought I was due for a bit of self-inflicted punishment. I’m adding it to the dverse open link night because these poems are so hard to write, and I’m pleased with the way this one turned out.
If you don’t know what a cleave poem is, it’s a three in one poem. Each side is a separate poem to be read vertically, one side dark, the other light, opposites. But they can be read horizontally as a single poem too.
Loud the city silence sings the moon
Breaking glassy fragments in a sea of darkness
All about the brittle stars blink and listen
I stop my ears to the swell tide’s refrain.
Though scraps of anger ride on peaceful calm,
White or red sails full of dawning
Grow round and full like moons on water
Fruiting in the heat lily blossoms, reflections
Of a summer night in a still forest pool.
Step by step
The Daily Post prompt is: Sidewalk
Step by /step echoes on the flags
Head bent low /rain spits in the wind
So it’s hard to see /how the raised face glistens!
The outstretched hand /and the soft voice pleading
Harden your heart /for there is hope in a smile
When the rain turns to tears /to give is to care
Walk on by /and the sun comes out.